Dauncey spoke words under his breath which were real and blasphemous.
“Can’t you put her out of your thoughts, old chap?”
“I think I have, and yet the place where she was is empty. And, Dick,” Jacob went on, “I don’t know where or how to fill it. You see, I’ve crowds of acquaintances, but no friends except you and Nora. One or two rich city people ask me to their houses, and the whole of Bohemia, I suppose, is open to me. I never see any women belonging to my city friends who appeal in the least to my imagination, and there’s something wrong about the other world, so far as I am concerned. We are not out for the same thing.”
“I think I understand,” Dauncey said quietly.
“I expect you do,” Jacob continued. “You ought to, because you’re exactly where I want to be. I want a wife who is just good and sweet and affectionate. She needn’t be clever, she needn’t be well-born, and she need know no more about Society than I do. I want her just to make a home and give me children. And, Dick, with all that million of mine I don’t know where to look for her.”
“She’ll come,” Dauncey declared encouragingly. “She is sure to come. You are young and you’ll keep young. You live like a man, of course, but it’s a sober, self-respecting life. You’ve heaps of time. And that reminds me. Could you join us in a little celebration to-night? My wife has a cousin from the country staying with her, and I have promised to take them out to dine and to a show.”
“I have nothing to do,” Jacob replied. “I shall be delighted.”
It was a little too obvious. Nora’s cousin from the country, a very nice and estimable person in her way, was not equal to the occasion. She wore her ill-fitting clothes without grace or confidence. She giggled repeatedly, and her eyes seldom left Jacob’s, as though all the time she were bidding for his approval. She was just well enough looking and no more, the sort of woman who would have looked almost pretty on her wedding day, a little dowdy most of the time during the next five years, and either a drudge or a nuisance afterwards, according to her circumstances. Jacob was very polite and very glad when the evening was over. His host wrung his hand as they parted.
“Not my fault, old chap,” he whispered. “Nora would try it. She hadn’t seen Margaret for three or four years.”
“That’s all right, Dick,” Jacob answered, with unconvincing cheerfulness. “Very pleasant time.”